That's Right, Go Home
by immovinout
Summary: People are telling House he's in love with Wilson! Wilson, likewise, is having strangers telling him he's in love with House. [Unnamed OC P.O.V's] [WilsonHouse]
1. Chapter 1

A/N: I don't own House. This is my first ever House fanfiction, so be nice.

* * *

"Who're you?" I asked, sitting up in my hospital bed. A scruffy looking man had just limped into my room. He glared at me with piercing blue eyes.

"I'm Santa Claus." He said sarcastically. He walked with the aide of his cane over to a chair set apart from all of my medical equipment.

"Wow! I've never met Santa before!" I said with false cheer. He smirked.

"You caught me, I'm doctor House." He hooked his cane behind the chair.

"I haven't seen you around." I sat up straighter in my bed.

"That's 'cause I haven't felt like being around."

"Why're you here now?" I asked.

"Well, someone has to make sure you don't up and die in the middle of the night." House replied in a well-duh sort of voice. I smiled. He leaned back in his chair.

"So, do you know what's wrong with me yet?" I picked some dirt out from under my finger nails. House leaned forward again.

"No."

"Any ideas?"

"Some. Most of them involve Bigfoot and UFO's." He smirked at his own joke.

I glared. "You know, that wasn't very nice. Foreman told me you were an ass, but I didn't believe him. Guess he was right." As I continued to glare sharp, pointy daggers at him he just stared at me with his creepy blue eyes. I felt like he was staring into my soul. I tried to return the favor, but failed. "Your eyes are fucking scary. Anyone ever tell you that before?"

House's eyes smiled. But only for a second. "Actually, no."

After a few silent minutes I asked House what time it was.

"Just after ten thirty." He answered.

"Where's your team?" I asked. He flinched slightly.

"Gone for the day."

"What'd you do?"

House was quiet for a moment while I tried to telepathically make him answer me.

"I was rude," was his answer when he did finally give one. I smirked.

"You?! Never!" House sneered at me while grabbing his cane off the back of the chair. He began to tap it lightly on the tiled floor.

All became quiet again until eleven o'clock when my door opened and a neatly dressed man stepped inside. He was younger then House and certainly looked nicer. I noticed a sparkling gold wedding band on his left hand.

"I'm sorry," the man said, looking from House to me and back again. "I didn't know you where up."

I turned from the new arrival to House. He had a twinkle in his eyes. They looked pretty.

"Whatever," I said. "Pretend I'm not here."

"What can I do you for, Wilson?" House asked, leaning his upper body against his cane.

"I only came by to say goodnight, and that I'll see you tomorrow." Wilson said.

"Why are you still here? Didn't you have dinner plans with Julie?" House asked with real concern in his voice.

"Oh, shit! I did, didn't I?" Wilson slapped his palm to his forehead. "I am in so much trouble."

"When Julie kicks you out my couch is waiting with open arms."

"Thanks." Wilson mumbled, then composed himself. He reached for the door handle. "Bye."

"Later."

For a few minutes I watched Houses eyes change from the sparkling orbs they were around Wilson, back to the scary rays of death they were normally.

I took a deep breath. Chase finally broke down and told me earlier how long I was going to live. Even though they didn't know what was wrong with me, I was still very ill. He said, unless they figured it out I probably had one, two days tops.

"House?"

"Yeah?"

"You love him." I stated was as steady a voice I could. He glared at me. "You're lonely and he's married and you're in love with him."

He continued to to glare at me.

"You can glare at me with your scary fucking eyes until the cows come home, but that wont change a damn thing."

House used his cane to get to his feet. "There will be a nurse in here to watch over you shortly." He said tersely.

"Where're you going?"

"Home."

"Yeah, that's right, go home and find your friend sleeping on your couch. You'll help him through his divorce and help him start dating again. Then he'll get married and start all over again. But where does that leave you?"

House stopped at the door, paused, then continued on his way.

Three minutes later the nurse showed up.


	2. Chapter 2

A/N: Okay, first things frist, I don't own House. I'm not making any money off this story. Blah, blah, blah. Alright, now that thats over with, I'd like to say thank you to thoughs of you who reveiwed 'Thats Right, Go Home'. It really ment alot to me. Here is the second chapter I had no intention of writing! I'll write more, because now it seems like I can't stop! Anyway, enjoy.

P.S. I'll love you forever if you review!

* * *

I never liked to see my mother in pain. So on our daily visits to the hospital I'd quietly slip away from my father and my brother into the nearby waiting room. Usually I'd watch mind numbing cartoons and try not to cry.

That day I had been watching Spongebob, enjoying it even, when a crippled man showed up and changed the channel to some soap opera. I was having trouble focusing on the soap the way I could on the cartoon so I switched to people watching in order to avoid crying in public.

Waiting room people are actually more boring then they appear on T.V. Just a bunch of soccer moms and old guys reading magazines about celebrities and fish. After a grand total of four minutes of people watching I switched back to the soap. A tall, busty blonde was crying about some much older husband getting cancer. There were sobs but no actual tears. I sighed. I had always hated soap operas.

I was about ready to give up when my mothers doctor, James Wilson, waltzed in.

"House," he greeted the crippled man who had changed the channel on me. Maybe Dr. Wilson liked Spongebob? He sat down next to House.

"Hey, Wilson."

"I heard about your patient. I'm sorry." Wilson said, watching the busty blonde fall in love with the young cancer doctor on the soap. So, the cripple was a doctor. Sure didn't look like one.

"It's nothing. The autopsy will tell me what killed her." House mumbled, tapping his cane on the tiled floor.

"I was talking to the nurses this morning, and-"

"Of course you were." House sneered. I didn't have to wonder what he was talking about. When you spend three or four days a week sneaking around a hospital with windows for walls you tend to learn some things. All the nurses loved Dr. Wilson. And some guy names Chase.

Wilson continues as if uninterrupted. "They said only five minutes after I left work you left her room in an angry huff."

"And?"

"Well, why? I mean, what did she do to piss you off?" Wilson asked, eyes flicking from the T.V. to House and back.

We watched the soap silently for a few minutes. Then Dr. Wilson sighed. "Look, if you're not going to answer me then I've got work to do." He made to get up but House blocked him with one swift swipe with his cane.

"Sit down and shut up." He growled. I flinched but Wilson seemed used to that sort of behavior. He sank back into his set. House's eyes glanced from the soap to Wilson and back again. He started to tilt his cane. Down twice, up once, down twice, up three times and repeat.

We waited.

"Are you and Julie," there was a hint of bitterness at the mention of Wilson's wife. Even if it was House himself who said it. "Still you and Julie?"

Wilson looked confused. He gave up on the T.V. and just stared at House. "Well, yeah."

"Never mind."

"Wait, wait, wait!" Wilson exclaimed. "Did she know Julie?" The young doctors eyes widen to the size of dinner plates. "She isn't cheating on me, is she?"

"No! Don't you have brave little cancer kids to save?" House said in a nasty half sneer half snarl.

Wilson sighed and left without saying goodbye.

Me and Dr. House watched the soap together. The busty blonde woman was being caught kissing the young cancer doctor by the husbands daughter.

"You didn't hear any of that." He said, glaring right at me. His eyes were so blue. And scary. They made me want to crawl into a corner and hide.

And suddenly, it clicked.

I smiled. Despite the death glare. I smiled at him without pity or sympathy, just understanding.

"He isn't happy. With his wife, I mean." I said pleasantly. His eyes tried to rip me to shreds. I shrugged and walked out of the waiting room. Leaving House and his soap behind me.

I passed Dr. Wilson in the hallway, but didn't say anything.

After all, I hadn't heard anything, had I?


	3. Chapter 3

Being a Pizza Boy isn't hardly as easy as it looks. For example, once I was asked to deliver a cheese pizza to a group of Goths performing what they thought was a satanic ritual. They asked me to stay to eat the pig's heart. I politely declined, but they made me take a vial of blood anyway.

So when I was asked to bring a large meat luvers (note the 'u' instead of the 'o'. Pizza Hoot would never copy Pizza Hut.) pizza to the teaching hospital it hardly seemed like a big deal. After all, I had delivered a pizza in the middle of an orgy once.

Walking with purpose (something an experienced Pizza Boy, like myself, learns to do after the forth or fifth time they're kicked out of a work place. Or a church, for that matter.) in through the front doors of the hospital I asked a nurse where exam room two was.

She, in a surprised haze, pointed into the clinic. I thanked her with a smile then headed for the clinic.

After entering sickland, exam room two wasn't hard to find. Just a crossed the way.

I knocked on the door. "Come in!" A deep voice said. I shrugged and opened the door.

Two men where sitting on the exam table. One was neat and quite clearly a doctor. The other was a little gruff.

"Get in and close the door!" The gruff one barked at me. I hurriedly went inside, and then closed the door.

Setting my pizza carrying case on the counter I noticed the neat fellow slide off the exam table. He stud in front of the older man's mini TV.

"House," he began in a tone my mother used sometimes. He even placed his hands on his hip like my mother did. "You ordered a pizza?! At work?"

The gruff man sort of rolled his eyes at the neat man, telling him non to nicely to move. The younger man (the neat one) sighed, turning to me.

"How much?" He asked, hand going for his pants pocket. I leaned a little to the left.

"Isn't he the one who ordered it?" I wondered out loud. Neat Man sighed again.

"He'll never pay for it." He said in a way that made me think he'd been friends with the other man for to long.

"Well, wh-"

"Will you two please shut up? The games on!" The gruff man said, tipping his cane at the little TV.

In my head I was calling it a pimp cane. It's hard out there for a pimp, and all.

"Fourteen ninety-seven." I said, trying to make the man's life a little easier. I pulled out the pizza while he pulled out a brown leather wallet. Handing me a twenty Neat Man told me to keep the change.

"Thanks," I smiled, heading for the door (after grabbing my pizza carrying case, of course. Rule number one of being a great pizza boy or girl: never forget the carrying case. They make you pay for it).

"Hey, kid," the scruffy man called out just as my hand touched the doorknob. "Sit, stay, eat my pizza."

I shrugged. This was common behavior for working people who order. Some were in their minds they figure having someone young and innocent looking in their general area will keep them from being fired.

Maybe Gruff Man (I know his name is House, but Gruff Man is just way cooler.) was a janitor or something.

I didn't actually take any pizza; I just sat on the stool doctors usually sit in. I spun in it a few times.

"So, how long do you think it'll take Cuddy to burst in here with all her large breasted glory and fire me?" Gruff Man asked, twirling his (pimp) cane. Neat Man rolled his eyes.

"Yes, let's worry about you." He said sarcastically. "I've already been fired because of you once. Let's talk about how being around you seems to get people fired. I mean, look at Cameron."

Gruff Man just sort of shrugged. "She quit."

"Whatever. Same thing." I was just about to point out that being fired and quitting sure as hell isn't the same thing when the door burst open.

"House!" A woman screamed. She walked in with a purpose. If this was Cuddy then Gruff Man was right, she did have large breasts. She showed them off nicely in a low cut blue shirt.

She stopped dead when she saw me and Neat Man.

"Dr. Wilson?" She asked in disbelief. Cuddy shook her head. "House, my office. Now." She ordered, pointing her finger out the door. "Wilson, wait here." Cuddy posed, looking at me. "Who're you?"

"Pizza Boy."

Cuddy nodded, then stalked off after the limping Gruff Man.

It wasn't a pimp cane. But, it's still hard out there for a pimp…

Neat Man sighed, reaching over and turning off the mini TV.

"How did he get you fired before?" I asked, hoping for conversation. Neat Man seemed startled that I was still there.

"He pissed off a millionaire."

I let out a low whistle. "Now, why would he do sometin so stupid?"

"He doesn't like people." Neat Man said simply. I picked at a tare in my old jeans.

"Seems to like you well enough." I remarked.

"I'm just about the only one." Neat Man let out a chuckle. "Me and Cuddy."

"Your boss is hot." I said, grinning.

Neat man shifted uncomfortably. "Well, she is, er, pretty."

I rolled my eyes. "You're gay, aren't you?"

It was supposed to be a joke, but Neat man just squirmed a bit, then told he was married.

I snorted. "Yeah, like that means anything."

He gave me a look.

"My grandfather's gay." I admitted. I tapped my fingers on my knee. "He married my Nan-Nan anyway. Then started beating her when the sauce stopped helping." Neat Man looked slightly unnerved.

"That," he looked like he was searching for the right words. "Sucks."

"Yeah, it does."

We sat in silents.

"Is your friend going to be fired?" I asked.

Neat Man shook his head. "He never is." Then he smiled a little. "Thank god."

I gave him a look.

"He's my best friend." He said by way of explanation.

"Why?"

"Just is." Neat Man replies, fiddling with his wedding ring.

I frown, adding things in my mind. Math had never been my best subject.

"You are aware," I said, being chose-y about my words. "That you're in love with your best friend, aren't you?"

Neat Man stared at me. I stared back.

"No. I'm not." He grumbles. I shrugged.

"Whatever." I said, standing up (remembering the pizza case). "Keep telling yourself that." I walked out of exam room feeling like I did good.

I probably didn't. But that doesn't matter.

A/N: I don't own House. Please review. And, if you hadn't noticed, I tried to make this one a boy. If you saw the difference, tell me please.


	4. Chapter 4

"So, what's your story?" I asked the newest regular patron to the city's finest bar. He looked up at me.

"Haven't got one." He said unconvincingly. I rolled my eyes, leaning against the bar.

"Sure, and I'm the President of China."

The man gave me a look, his bushy eyebrows knotted together. "I'm confused." He admitted, spinning his drink around on the bar.

"'Bout what?" I asked, cocking my head to the side.

"Just something some pizza boy said." He said, waving his hand as if dismissing the memory. Then he took a sip of his drink.

"Pizza boy wasn't banging yer kid, was 'e?" I asked. You'd be surprised the number of dads who come in and drink themselves into a coma because of their kids.

"I don't have a kid." The man muttered sadly.

"Then what'd he say?"

"He said I was in love with my best friend."

I stared at the mans drink. Then at his hands holding the drink. He was wearing a wedding ring.

"And you know it's true, otherwise you wouldn't be crying in your beer." I concluded, nodding sagely in the way only good bartenders can.

"Yeah," he mumbled, "I think I do."

I smiled. "There," I said, "go tell this woman you love her." I thumped the bar.

"'S not so easy." He said, twisting his wedding ring. "I've got a wife." He gave a bitter little laugh. "Plus…"

"Plus what?"

"Never mind." He dug into his pocket, pulling out a brown leather wallet. The man placed a twenty on the bar. "Thanks." He told me, sliding off the stool.

Just before he exited I yelled a crossed the bar for him to tell his friend how he felt. I tried to imagine the type of woman that could be that man's friend and nothing more. She was probably fat.

A/N: I know this one was short, but bare with me. The next one will be longer. Promise.

Thank you, reviews! You have made me glowy with joy.


	5. Chapter 5

The check out line was all the way to the back of the store. And I was caught in the middle of it. Sometimes I figured I was the best husband in the world because of things like that. How else would Mary have gotten the ingredients for her (un)popular Preggers Shake. A milkshake made from mint ice cream, strawberry milk, ding-dongs and Hidden Valley ranch dressing.

I was waiting patiently in line when someone started making an annoying tapping noise on the cheap pink floor tiles.

"Stop that," a man said, reading my mind.

"Why?" A gruff voice asked. The tapping increased.

As the two men continued their conversation I tried to distract myself, so I wouldn't over hear it. I wiped the thin layer of ice off the ice cream box. The overly cheery green ice cream on the label taunted me. Telling me how delicious it was, knowing I couldn't eat even a spoon full of it.

I shook my head, clearing it of whispering ice cream.

"I was with my wife last night." The non-tapper said wearily. They seemed to have switched topics. One that the non-tapper was used to and annoyed by.

"I called your house last night, three times. I would have called again, but Julie thought we were pulling a prank on her."

The line moved forward a foot. The woman in front of me had her son in a death grip. I would have to. His face was covered in chocolate and he screamed trouble.

"I was at a bar," the non-tapper whispered. Many years of fatherhood allowed me to easdrop like no ones business. I turned my attention from the dirty boy to the two men.

"If this sentence continues with, 'and there was this girl,' I might have to strangle you." I think it could have been a joke. But it wasn't.

"No! No! Nothing like that!"

"Then what was it?" The tapper asked, almost before the other man was finished.

The line moved forward again.

"I had to think." The non-tapper admitted. I tapped out the beat to _You May Be Right _by Billy Joel.

"And you couldn't do that with me?" Tapper said with something akin to disbelief in his voice.

"No."

I sensed something big was about to happen. Something privet and I just couldn't turn my ears away. Like at my sisters wedding when I caught her kissing her maid of honor.

The line moved forward.

"Why?"

The non-tapper cleared his throat, then mumbled something about forgetting the cheese. And because I'm an idiot, when I heard him turn around, so did I.

There were at least three blocks of cheese in their cart. But I didn't see the cheese first. No, I saw the crippled guy and his glare first.

"You, were listening in." He stated bluntly. I nodded.

The line moved forward.

"Did you learn anything interesting?" Tapper asked sarcastically. The man thought he was scary. He was a kitten compared to my pregnant wife.

"Not really. No." I admitted, watching a vaguely familiar looking man walk up to the cripple. When he opened his mouth I remembered where I had seen him before. The previous night, in the bar down on main street. I over heard him talking to the bartender.

I'm-in-lone-with-my-best-friend-guy. Larry had had a field day with that guy after he left. Telling everyone he must be in love with some really fat chick, or something. I tried not to take offence. Mary's no spring chicken.

I smiled at the non-tapper. "So it wasn't a fat chick."

He gave me a confused look. So did the cripple. I expanded my smile.

"Last night, in the bar, the barkeep was saying your friend must have been a large woman because she wasn't with you yet. Something about them having low self-esteems or something, anyway,"

the line moved forward.

"He'll think it's hilarious when he finds out it was really this guy you're in love with." I pointed to the cripple. At the sight of non-tappers face my smile faded. I realized what I did.

Stepping on my foot I smiled again. "I forgot to take my pills this morning. Don't mind me! Mad as a hatter I am. Forget anything I just said." Coursing myself for ruining that mans life I turned back to my cart.

Thankfully, it was my turn to check out.

A/N: I don't own House. Please review. I will love you forever if you do.


	6. Chapter 6

Jesse told me Liam was faking it to get out of school on Monday. I didn't doubt him after the doctor started examining him. I could tell the doctor knew he was faking it to.

"Mrs. Lanski," he started, throwing away the tip of the otoscope. "Liam seems to be-"

The doctor was cut off by a banging on the door. He sighed and rolled his eyes. "Excuse me." He said. The door opened.

The man in the door way looked like Count Olaf with a cane and without bushy eyebrows. He glared at our doctor.

"I paged you," he said. "For a consult."

Our doctor rolled his eyes again. "With a patient."

Olaf glanced around the room for the first time noticing me, Jesse, Liam and Momma. "He's faking." He exclaimed, pointing at Liam on the exam table. "Take him home, ground him, whatever. He doesn't belong here."

Momma stared between Liam and Olaf. Liam caved. "Sorry, Momma." He mumbled. Jesse and I shared a look. We hoped he wouldn't rat on us for knowing to.

Momma's face turned bright red. "Sorry to have wasted your time doctor." She grabbed Liam by the arm, dragging him off the table.

Before closing the door I heard, "Male, age 36, pain presents in my ass 'cause he wont pound it." From Olaf.

I had to hear more.

"Momma?" I asked in my mink voice. "Can I go to the bathroom?"

Momma looked at me, then the boys, and nodded. I walked in the general direction of the ladies room until I noticed Momma, Liam and Jesse had left the clinic.

I raced back over to the exam room.

I hadn't really missed much.

"- didn't talk about it last night!" Olaf's voice was muffled by the closed door.

"There's nothing to talk about." Our doctor said.

"I don't think so! No way you can ignore this! You told that bartender you were in love with me, and now you have to own up to it!"

There was a slamming sound. I hoped Olaf didn't hurt our doctor.

"House," our doctor said so quietly I almost didn't hear him though the door. I pressed my ear closer to the crack between the door and its frame. "I'm married."

I bit one of my finger nails. This was better then Momma's soaps.

House (Olaf) snorted. "Like that's ever stopped you before." There was a tapping noise.

Our doctor sighed loudly. "You're right. You're right. That was a lame excuse."

After a heavy silence, something was slammed into the door. I almost screamed, it was so sudden.

There were sounds like Daddy sometimes makes when Bobby comes over to watch NASCAR. Me and Liam all ways thought they was bad sounds. Like maybe Bobby was killing our Daddy. But House and our doctor made them sound like happy sounds.

Soon, though, the noises stopped.

"I'll get a divorce."

"I don't care." House thumped his cane on the floor a few times. I took that as my warning to leave.

And it was. Just before exiting the clinic I turned back around. Both House and our doctor were chatting like nothing had happened.

House caught my eye and winked. I smiled back, forming a heart between my two fingers. When he made a face I laughed all the way back to Momma, Jesse and Liam.

A/N: I don't own House.

I'm pulling this fic to a close! Yay! The boys got their action (even if you didn't see it. Use those brains, people!) so it's over! I might write more if you ask really, really nicely! Thank you to everyone who stuck by this fic! It's ment alot to me! hug


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